Messages and Late Night Cuddles
by AceOfSpades22
Summary: Lars and Iain haven't been friends for very long... yet when Lars decides to go for a walk late one night, it's the redhead's house he decides to go to. When he ends up spilling a secret to Iain that he shouldn't have, he fears that the friendship between them will change...


**Well look at this! It's a new fic! *parties***

**Warning: Extreme feels killing~**

**I don't own hetalia... Blah blah blah... [Witty words here]**

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It is so hot in my room…

Lars typed the words out and sent them with one hand while the other pulled the t-shirt from his body, leaving him clad only in a pair of navy boxer shorts. The lights were off and the fan was on, but the laptop that he had balanced on his legs as he Skyped with Iain, it still was too warm in the small room. How did such a small machine produce that much heat?

You could always come here

It was true… He always could go there, but then he had only ever been to his friend's house a few times, and that had all been during the day. He doubted Mrs. Kirkland would appreciate him being over there at... He glanced at the clock... 11:30 at night. He didn't handle the disdainful sniffs and glares around the corner that he received from the woman, nor short, clipped way she spoke with him on a good day after all...

Still though, as heat radiated down onto his stomach and thighs, he seriously considered it, even though there was a predominant, nagging suspicion that Iain was merely being flirtatious. Groaning, he patted at his suddenly flaming cheeks to try and get the color he knew was there just from the fluttering of his heart and the butterflies in his stomach. Iain, though their Danish friend Matthias relentlessly gave the redhead crap about it, had mastered the art of flirtation... He was the one, out of the two, that stayed quite in person. His tongue had a bad habit of tripping over itself whenever he attempted, with too bright eyes and a thundering heart, to speak to the spunky Scotsman.

Sighing to himself as the blushed died down and a strange lump formed in his throat, he stared at the computer screen for a moment, before looking out the window, eyes searching impossibly for the house he knew contained his friend a few blocks away.

I better not... If my Dad finds out I'll end up with some nasty bruises and I just regained the abilirt to wear T-Shirts after the last time he got pissed off.

Lars sighed and shook his head, eyes dull as they stared unseeing up at the ceiling of his room, knowing his words would provoke an angry, colorful response from the other teenager. Of all the friends Lars had, and he did have a few, Iain and their mutual friend Matthias, were the only ones he had ever told about his home life, and if it ever came up in conversation, it nearly always resulted in a rant.

Matthias liked to say it was because "Iain is a protective guy. Gets it from raising his brothers. He cares about you, so he worries."

He really didn't want to get into a rant about his life again...

Hey. I'm going to go for a walk.

With that, he shut his laptop and set in on his bed before pulling on the pair of sweatpants that rested crumpled on the floor and his boots, then the shirt he had taken off moments before, his tan colored trench coat, and the blue and white scarf that his sister had given him. Moving out of his room and slipping down the hall silently, phone in one hand, he prayed his parents would both stay asleep while he was out. After all, he reasoning for not wanting to go to Iain's house was valid.

Taking off down the street once he had shut the door behind him, he wandered aimlessly, not having any particular destination in mind. A small, almost serene looking smile played at the corners of his lips as he looked around him. Pale moonlight casted shadows of stationary cars on the cooling pavement, leaves in the trees rustled with the wind, creating a soft, soothing whisper of sound, the only other sound being his quiet, booted footfalls. It was so different from the roar of cars rocketing up and down the road while the sun beat down and baked away everyone's patience.

The night air was so much cooler as it wisped across his pale cheeks than the stagnant air of his room had been, stifling and suffocating. Out of the house, where the world was free and stretched infinitely on either side of him, his worries melted away leaving him to think, why shouldn't he go to Iain's? Why shouldn't he go and see the person at made him feel as peaceful on the inside as being out in the slumbering outside world? The man had invited him, even in playfulness, and just because he had never been before, so late in the night, didn't mean he couldn't go now. There was a first time for everything, was there not? Eyes flashing with determination, he secured his scarf around his neck a little tighter and turned his feet towards Iain's house, hastened onward now that he had a purpose for being out.

Booted feet striking the pavement and lungs burning uncomfortably but not unpleasantly, Lars didn't stop running until he had made it the couple blocks to the Scotsman's house, his previous bout of peaceful contentness fading away into the heart pounding, stomach curling excitement that the mere mention of Iain brought on. Once the off-white, loose shingled house was in sight, he slowed his pace, coming to a stop a few meters from the home.

"Well fuck me..." He cursed under his breath as he looked up at faintly lit window that hid Iain from view. In all of his anxious anticipation, he had rather stupidly forgotten that Iain's room was on the second floor. How the hell was he supposed to get up there?

Rapunzel, Rapunzel let down your crimson hair.

He waited, looking up at the window with the expectation that Iain would open the window. Waited... Waited... What the hell was taking him so long? Grumbling he looked down at his phone, thinking maybe the redhead had tested him back, not getting what he was asking. There was nothing. He tried again

Open your damn window.

Lars rolled his eyes and rubbed at his temples, feeling a headache coming on. Maybe it hadn't been as good an idea as he previously thought to come to Iain's unannounced. Had the man seriously fallen asleep?! He hadn't been gone from his laptop more than half an hour. Securing his scarf more comfortably around his neck, he looked over at the tree that grew beside the house with distaste. At least it was sturdy...

"I can't believe I'm doing this..." He grumbled to himself as he looked up at the sky, finding the cheshire moon more mocking now than peaceful, the silvery grin in the sky laughing at his dilemma. Flipping it off, he gripped at one of the lower tree branches and pulled himself up in an athletic fashion, muscles rippling in his arms and back and chest as he did so.

He continued much the same until he was precariously perched on a branch that was almost dangerously thin. The branch, though it bowed beneath him, was the one closest to the window, hanging just above it, though a half meter gap between the tree and the window was problematic. Really, if Iain would just wake up and check his damn texts there wouldn't be a problem at all.

"Fucking Iain... Wake up and open your window." He muttered, inching along the branch and looking through the window. Despite his irritation, his heart skipped a beat as he looked inside.

Iain was asleep, just as he had suspected, but he felt his irritation die away as he looked at the slumbering teen, replaced instead with the telltale acceleration of his heart. The Scot's face was lit up from the faint glow of his laptop and his entire body was curled around it, nose just barely touching the corner while the blanket was pulled up over his head, leaving only his face showing.

Lars didn't know why, but the sight sent his heart to his throat and his stomach to his toes, and suddenly both a glow of warmth and an aching disappointment flooded through him. He didn't really want to wake his friend up anymore... not after seeing how peaceful he looked. Instead he stayed up in the tree and watched him sleep even after the screen had shut off and the room was plunged in darkness.

Unable to stop himself, he inched forward a little more on the branch that bowed and groaned under his weight, too caught in rapture with the slumbering man inside to think on the possibility of crashing to the ground. His heart hammered in his chest, not with fear, but with the possibility of sneaking inside of his friend's room and laying on the bed with him; his mind ran rampant with thoughts of holding the much smaller teen to his chest in his arms, close enough to feel his breath against his neck and collar bone and his heart beat inside of his chest. The mental images, all of them depicting closeness and cuddles and intimate embraces while bordering on the line of dream walking and wakefulness, those thoughts... They were all too much to handle.

Throwing caution to the wind, he stretched as far as he could with his arms until he could just barely grip onto the window, legs clenched around the slender tree branch as if it was his last life line. Strong as he was, it took serious effort, straining and cursing, to lift the window up, but when he finally had slid into place, a look of satisfaction spread across his lips.

Taking a deep breath to quell the nerves that shook his body in gently, spasming tremors, he lowered himself onto the sill the stretched mere tens of centimeters past the shingled wall and slipped inside the dark room, his forest green eyes, though having been peering into the dark space for an hour or more, taking a few moments to widen and adjust to the lightless space.

It was only once he was able to make out the rise in the comforter that marked where Iain began did he move forward, pulling the laptop from the top of the mattress and setting it on the floor before removing his trenchcoat, his boots and his scarf and slowly, slowly climbing onto the bed with the sleeping redhead that made his heart flutter and sputter and stop.

Settling beside him, he watched as the man's form moved slowly with each breath, just barely unsettling the blanket that shrouded him. Again a sense of peacefulness washed over him as his heart slowed and his breathing moved in time with Iain's, and he quickly became so focused on the man that when he moved in his sleep he ended up jumping, eyes going wide. His heart exploded in his chest when Iain rolled over with a soft, unintelligible sound and pressed right up against his chest, tucking his arms between them and nuzzling his face against his chest. The small smile on the redhead's face made his heart melt in and he swore the flutter in his stomach could be felt.

Moving almost as slowly as he had getting on the bed with Iain, he wrapped his arms around the Scot and pulled him close, and though he was hesitant, he pressed his face against the top of his head and closed his eyes, not remembering a time when he had felt more content and happy than he had in that moment.

Holding Iain... It was better than he had ever imagined, his body fit so perfectly against his own... Like they had been molded for each other alone and no one else. The redhead's smell, something he had memorized from the times Iain had forgotten a jacket and used his trenchcoat, or the times he had asked to borrow his scarf because he was cold, was so much better close up. So much stronger. If there was a smell that could lull him to sleep, it was Iain's smell. If there was a sound that he could comfortably close his eyes to, it was the sound of the other, smaller teenager's breath moving in and out past his pale, perfect lips. For someone who lived a secret, hidden life of fear and anxiety... He had never felt safer than he did in that moment with Iain pulled close to his chest.

Eyes closed he was very nearly lulled completely to sleep and was oblivious to the tensing of muscles from the teen in his arms, nor the few stray tears of joy that ran down his own cheeks, but when a hand reached out and brushed the few drops of moisture away he opened his eyes again and was immediately met with confused, sleepy looking eyes peering up at him.

"Lars?" Iain mumbled, voice thick and slurred with sleep and his eyes were blurred like that of the half conscious. Was he dreaming? He had had dreams about Lars before sure... but the man's scent had never permeated the air in his sleep the way it was now. It was for this reason that he reached out, though seeing the tears he brushed them away. Shaking himself awake a little more when he realized that indeed the Dutchman he so often fantasied about was laying in his bed.

"Why... Why are ye crying?" Iain asked, his voice, though slurred with sleep to the point that, mixed with his already heavy accent, were near incomprehensible. It was very much unlike the strong, quiet Dutchman to cry that, had he been fully awake, it would have been unnerving and enough to make his heart hammer in his chest and his stomach to sink to his toes with fear and concern. When lars only shook his head, shrugging the question off, it didn't even register in his mind that he probably should have pressed the issue.

"Ah thought... Ye went on a walk..." He yawned before nuzzling his face against the taller teen's neck, unaware that his actions were more of someone in a relationship than someone as a friend. Still though, Lars didn't seem to mind and he was so warm...

"I did go for a walk. I came here." Lars murmured softly, a low, rumbling laugh rolling through his chest at the same time that his heart fluttered from the sleepy, confused look the man in his arms was giving him.

"Ah... Ah would've..." Iain attempted to say, but surrounded by the warmth Lars put out and constantly breathing in his familiar, addictive scent caused his eyes to droop closed and his breathing to deepen once more. Clinging onto consciousness by a thread, he cuddled closer to Lars' chest and pressed his icy nose tip against the bigger teen's neck.

He was so far from fully aware that he didn't even register the man jump with the contact, which was actually something rather curious, because he was hyperaware of the big, strong arms that completely unfolded him. They held him so gently, so protectively close, that it would have been impossible to ignore the warmth and contentness that rolled through him, had he still been trying to deny the growing feelings he felt for Lars. Just as he was about to surrender that last thread of wakefulness, a warm, tickling breath sent tingles across his neck as it hit his ear.

"Are you still awake?" Lars questioned, voice softer than a whisper and lighter than a cloud as he spoke, his words barely reflecting the way his stomach flip flopped in his chest as anxiety rolled through every cell in his body, making him all too aware of the redhead. Iain was nestled so close he could feel every breath the teen took, every beat his heart made. He was so, impossibly, enticingly close he could smell Iain's scent with each breath he took in, letting the smell, more intoxicating than any cigarette could ever be to fill his lungs and push him into some sort of high that was more intense than any of Mattie's pot brownies could ever be... And then...

Iain nodded.

"I have something to tell you..." Lars breathed, his voice so impossibly shaky even though it was weaker than the breeze that had caressed his face as he ran all the way to Iain's house. Even as he had ran there he had been subconsciously driven forward by this one exclamation he need to make, but he was so consumed with the fears of rejection that it hurt already and brought the faintest pressure of tears to his eyes. What if Iain laughed? What if the small redhead he was so infatuated with laughed in his face? Or worse! Scorned the friendship that flowed so effortlessly between him?

Lars momentarily lost his courage.

Iain was awake just enough not to let the matter at hand go.

"Mmmm?" Iain questioned, nothing more than a hum who's pitch lifted up at the end to accent it with a question mark at the end instead of a period. Eyes closed and body relaxed, he was struggling against the wall of soft, warm unconsciousness that threatened to sweep him away into a world of vivid colors and grand adventures that he would all too likely forget once the sun rose in the morning. He wanted to know what it was Lars had to tell him.

"I... I think..." Lars felt like he was choking on his own words, as if the conglomeration of letters that formed coherent, understandable sounds were sticking in his throat. His own body was trying to force his silence, but he stubbornly coughed to clear his throat. Iain needed to know.

"I... Was wondering if you... If... I... Fuck Iain I like you... I really fucking like you..." Lars whispered against Iain's ear.

The words were out in the air... They were out in the open and no matter how Iain reacted to them, there was no way for him to take them back now.

Iain was still... He was hardly breathing and his eyes stared over at him dumbly.

"I... Fuck I mean... It's cool if you don't... Shit... I didn't mean to upset you... Please... Damn it Iain please don't be pissed at me... I can't help it... Being around you? It... It drives me fucking crazy... My head spins and my heart slams against my chest every time I see you." Lars stammered, forcing the words from his mouth in a rush while Iain was still too stunned to scream at him.

"And I know it's stupid but every time you wear my scarf your smell is on it and I just... It makes me so stupidly happy just being around you and seeing you and feeling you close to me! I... I'm sorry... Iain I'm so fucking sorry... You can hate me if you want... I was stupid to tell you." Lars whispered shakily as he fought not to spill the tears that burned in his eyes. He didn't want to cry in front of Iain and just make things that much worse.

Pushing Iain away more abruptly than he should have, he moved to his feet, gathered his boots and his coat and moved to the window. A full body shudder rolled through his form as he tried to ignore the eyes that bore into his very skin. Iain's gaze held so much weight that when he looked up at Lars' departing form it seemed that his eyes alone had shot him in the back. He was so stupid! He knew better than to pour his heart out onto someone! And now he had to deal with climbing down the damn tree and be crushed by the mocking laughs of the chesire moon...

Reaching the panes he looked out at the sky for a half of a heartbeat. It was so hard to will himself to move back out of the redhead's life... But, remarkably... He didn't have to.

Because a pale, trembling hand shot out and gripped against his arm with surprising strength.

Iain pulled Lars back from the window hard enough he sent the far heavier, bigger man stumbling to the floor. Instead of anger, curiosity burned in his eyes, and he sat down on Lars' stomach with a blush curling up his cheeks, legs on either side of him.

"Ye dumb, pineapple headed bastard... Don't ye dare move out of that fuckin' window without giving me a chance to say something." He whispered firmly. His eyes bore into Lars as he stared at him as if daring the man to protest. When he didn't speak or attempt to protest, Iain nodded his head curtly and looked away, a blush curling up onto his cheeks.

"How do ye know ah don't like ye back? Whit if ah want ye to ask me out? Ye have no faith in me Lars." He mumbled. The blush on his cheeks was nearly the color of his hair and his eyes kept darting away from the man he sat on top of, but what glimpses he gave to the man were full of apprehension and hesitant excitement.

Bending down before Lars had a chance to speak, Iain crashed their lips together in a bruising, nearly painful way. Their noses bumped together awkwardly and he was pretty sure that his teeth caught against Lars' lip by accident. The angle they had kissed at was horribly awkward with Lars lying flat on his back and him sort of just... draped half way on top of him, and to make matters worse, he yawned after a second or two, affectively breaking the kiss. Yet... It was the most perfect kiss he had ever shared with another person.

"Whit do ye say Lars? Would ye like to go out with me sometime?" He whispered once he had climbed off of the man and extended a hand to help him up off the floor.

Was this actually happening, or was it a dream? Lars didn't actually know, but he brought his fingertips to his own lips and brushed against the slightly chapped skin. His eyes were stunned and distant looking as he stared at Iain, completely dumbfounded.

Moving with exaggerated slowness, he reached out and took Iain's hand with his own, though he looked at it almost as if he expected the unoffending appendage to turn into a snake and bite him. It wasn't until he was standing that his shock had faded enough for him to speak again, but by the time he had recovered Iain had flopped back down on his bed. At first he thought the redhead was offended with all the huff he was making, but one glance at his pale green eyes set his worries at ease. Amusement shown on every inch of Iain's face from the smiled smirk that quirked up his lips to the sparkle of mischief in his eye.

"I'd love to." Lars whispered softly. He was unable to completely contain his excitement as he too walked over to the bed and crawled back on top of it. A euphoric sounding giggle escaped past his lips when, as he sat on the bed, cool arms wrapped around his neck. A warm, dark blush flooded up into his cheeks that made the contrast between the coolness of Iain's skin and the warmness of his own that much sharper. Slowly, he extended his own arms out and secured them around Iain's waist, using his superior strength to pull the small teenager up onto his lap.

When Iain's head rested against his chest his heart fluttered with happiness and he looked down at the man, mouth open as if to say something... but instead of speaking he closed it again and held Iain just a little closer. The man's eyes were drooping again.

A smile graced his lips as he rocked Iain back and forth. The movements were slow, calm and affectionate and the repetitious movements were putting him to sleep nearly as quickly as they seemed to put Iain to sleep. It wasn't until Iain's breathing had slowed and his eyes had fully closed as he surrendered to sleep that he laid down, but even as he rested on Iain's bed he didn't let the man go. Instead, he cuddled him as he dozed off and started to walk the border of the waking world and a fantastical dream realm.

Just before he slipped off until sleep alongside his new boyfriend, Iain nuzzled his cold nose against his neck, and he couldn't help but smile all the more.

"Goedenacht Iain. I'll see you in the morning." He promised with his last breath of wakefulness before slipping away into a world of vivid colors and imagination, though no matter what he dreamt, Iain stayed clutched in his arms.

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**Huzzah! I'm not responsible for anyone's deaths by fluff. Thank you for reading!**

**As a quick note, Goedenacht, if it wasn't obvious, means good night in Dutch. **


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